Things were going well for all my Columbus friends. Mary's plan had worked and we were all in contact with one another. Manny and Maria moved in with their cousin Sarita and her husband and had found work in San Diego. There wasn't anything worth returning to in Columbus. Sammy was slightly disappointed to find himself back on the Rez, but was glad to be with his sisters again and planned to leave again soon. Bookie found an apartment in Manhattan near Mary. He would go back to England after the New Year. Mary and George got engaged. Mr. and Mrs. Calvert sure had their hands full. Two of their three sons would be getting married in the year to come. Only the youngest, Dave, had yet to find the right girl. Still, at fifteen, he had time.
As for myself I was on the road to becoming an educating woman. Upon passing an examination I was accepted to the California State Normal School in San José and moved there in September. I was going to be a teacher.
College was interesting. I was older than most of my classmates. Most people started college at sixteen back then. It was the first time in my life I had set a long-term goal for myself. It felt strangely satisfying. But the most satisfying part was finally making 'Rose Dawson' official.
While working hard at my studies I also worked on a personal project, a letter to Emily and Joe Dawson. For months it was a pile of crumpled up pieces of paper all starting off with "Dear Mr. and Miss Dawson." Nothing seemed to come of it. I wasn't sure how to go about this. I was a stranger to these people trying to tell them that their cousin and nephew was dead and that I loved him more than words could express. Yet strangely enough, in my attempts to tell my and Jack's story to his family I was able work out most of the ordeal for myself. For the first time I was able to completely organize my thoughts on the matter. Still, it was hard. I wasn't sure how to approach it. I barely knew Emily and I'd never met her father.
By mid-semester I had decided to switch careers. The medical profession interested me more than teaching. I had made my choice to transfer. My efforts had paid off. Good marks and recommendations had gotten me into the University of Maryland. I moved back East immediately after the holiday break and was in Baltimore before Christmas. I would start training to be a nurse once classes resumed in January.
I settled into a boarding house that December. Students attending the School of Nursing were expected to work at the University Hospital from the day they arrived. Between school, work at the hospital, writing letters to my friends, and attempting to construct that disastrous letter to the Dawsons I had almost no free time.
1916 had been a hell of a year. My home was destroyed, I became a Villista, my friends and I discovered murder victims, I attacked two bandits and stole back an ancient religious idol and nearly fell off a train in the process, rode on my first roller coaster, filmed a movie, and started college.
Most of 1917 seemed relatively uneventful in comparison, at least in my life.
Besides the start of the Great War, in which the United States declared war on Germany exactly five years to the day that I met Jack, any events that happened that year that would shape my life I would not find out until the following.
Otherwise it was relatively uneventful except for getting another year older and learning to fly.
***
It wasn't until the summer that I could finally relax. Coming home from class on the last day of the 1916-1917 school year at the University of Maryland I found a letter from Gigi waiting for me at the boarding house.
"Do you really know Gigi DuBois?" asked Philip, another boarder. Gigi was a full-blown star now.
"Of course she does," answered Julie, yet another boarder who lived across the hall from me, "she was in that picture with her…the one with the girl…she was…the other girl. You know!"
I smiled and shook my head and sifted through the rest of my mail.
"Oh my!" I said. Inside was the usual letter from Gigi, a train ticket, and cash. She wanted me to come visit her in California. She was never subtle about these things. "Crazy girl."
"Gee, she can really do that?" Julie said looking over my shoulder at the contents of the envelope.
"She always does." I shook my head.
Nothing was ever private in this particular boarding house. Everything time I opened my mail there was always somebody wanting to know what was going on. I didn't mind them so much even if they did get somewhat annoying from time to time. And because I had been in a movie I was a favorite among the resident busybodies.
***
"This is going to be the most fun ever!" Gigi ran up ahead of me, but not for long. I soon caught up to her.
I took a week off from the hospital and stayed with Gigi for two weeks. I spent most those two weeks bouncing around ritzy areas of Los Angeles and pestering her with all the medical jargon I'd learned. By the end of the second week she threatened to dump 400 cc's of gasoline on my head.
Gigi was not your typical tale of a girl from a humble beginning who made it big in Hollywood. She was a California native and her family had money.
While visiting her that summer we spent a weekend on her grandfather's estate. This particular day Mr. Pastor had agreed to teach us how to fly his airplane. Pastor was Gigi's real name. Gretchen Glen "Gigi" Pastor.
After an hour of poking around the plane and showing us how it worked and giving us instructions it was time to take her out for some fresh air.
First Grandpa Pastor flew with Gigi as his passenger, then with me. Then Gigi flew me around. As much fun as I was having I was getting impatient. I couldn't wait to fly myself. Finally my turn came.
Grandpa Pastor had flown many times before; he even built the plane himself. Gigi had flown a few times before during her other visits. As for myself, it was my first experience with airplanes in my life. Needless to say Mr. Pastor was a little timid about having a rookie fly his baby.
Once in the air I couldn't contain myself.
"Ha!"
"I see we put the child in the candy store!" Gigi shouted over the noise.
"This one of the most exhilarating things I've done in my life! I'm flying! I'm a pilot!"
"Yes you are, sweetie."
I must have given poor Mr. Pastor a heart attack. Needless to say I flew a little recklessly…and for a long time. I didn't take her down until we started to run out of fuel. At least I landed it without a hitch.
"Say 'I'm a pilot' again and I swear to God…" Gigi feigned an evil glare.
"My legs are shaking. This is wonderful!" I said with dizzy excitement.
"Alright girls. Let's save the moment." Laughed Mr. Pastor. He took out his camera. He took a few of Gigi and me, I took one of the two of them, and Gigi shot one of me posing victoriously next to the plane looking like a real pilot.
The next morning he let us take out his baby again before we left. I hogged the plane again not giving Gigi much of a chance. She didn't seem to mind so much. She found my enthusiasm wildly amusing. I liked her when she was around her family. Like on screen, her innocence and sweetness actually seemed honest for once.
***
By the spring of 1918 I received my nursing certificate and registered in the State of Maryland.
After war had been declared the Army called upon University Hospitals across America to form base hospitals. Within the University of Maryland hundreds of nurses applied and one hundred were selected for Base Hospital 42. I was among them.
On July 14, 1918, the nineteenth birthday of Emily Dawson-a birthday so narrowly missed by her cousin six years earlier, the nurses of Base Hospital 42 sailed from New York City aboard the White Star Liner Baltic.
What an oddly familiar setting. It was the second time I found myself on a boat since my Titanic ordeal. This time I was required to wear a lifebelt at all times due to the possibility of German sub attacks. I happily obliged.
Going into it, my thoughts were different on this war. The war in Mexico seemed trivial compared to this. Nothing is black and white, but there was a more righteous side in this war. Some wars need to be fought. There are worse things than war. Slavery is worse than war. Tyranny is worse than war. I had a skill that was needed where my country's, as well as other countries' soldiers fought and sacrificed themselves.
When the thought had finally hit me that I'd find myself on an ocean liner again I made my decision. I would go if I had to. True, there would always be a part of me that was scared, but that would have to be overcome. And if took sailing on every boat, leaving myself floating in the middle of every ocean, and taking ice cold baths everyday for the rest of my earthly life I'd do it. I would conquer this. I was stronger than it. There was a risk in walking out the door in the morning. I would not let myself be swayed into my shell because of a bad experience no matter how horrifying.
I did it with thought of my whole life in mind, but it was especially important at this moment in time. I didn't think it was going to be pretty, but I had no idea that what I'd see over the next four months would be even more horrifying than the Titanic. I was about to make myself witness to the largest, most terrifying war the modern world had known.
As for myself I was on the road to becoming an educating woman. Upon passing an examination I was accepted to the California State Normal School in San José and moved there in September. I was going to be a teacher.
College was interesting. I was older than most of my classmates. Most people started college at sixteen back then. It was the first time in my life I had set a long-term goal for myself. It felt strangely satisfying. But the most satisfying part was finally making 'Rose Dawson' official.
While working hard at my studies I also worked on a personal project, a letter to Emily and Joe Dawson. For months it was a pile of crumpled up pieces of paper all starting off with "Dear Mr. and Miss Dawson." Nothing seemed to come of it. I wasn't sure how to go about this. I was a stranger to these people trying to tell them that their cousin and nephew was dead and that I loved him more than words could express. Yet strangely enough, in my attempts to tell my and Jack's story to his family I was able work out most of the ordeal for myself. For the first time I was able to completely organize my thoughts on the matter. Still, it was hard. I wasn't sure how to approach it. I barely knew Emily and I'd never met her father.
By mid-semester I had decided to switch careers. The medical profession interested me more than teaching. I had made my choice to transfer. My efforts had paid off. Good marks and recommendations had gotten me into the University of Maryland. I moved back East immediately after the holiday break and was in Baltimore before Christmas. I would start training to be a nurse once classes resumed in January.
I settled into a boarding house that December. Students attending the School of Nursing were expected to work at the University Hospital from the day they arrived. Between school, work at the hospital, writing letters to my friends, and attempting to construct that disastrous letter to the Dawsons I had almost no free time.
1916 had been a hell of a year. My home was destroyed, I became a Villista, my friends and I discovered murder victims, I attacked two bandits and stole back an ancient religious idol and nearly fell off a train in the process, rode on my first roller coaster, filmed a movie, and started college.
Most of 1917 seemed relatively uneventful in comparison, at least in my life.
Besides the start of the Great War, in which the United States declared war on Germany exactly five years to the day that I met Jack, any events that happened that year that would shape my life I would not find out until the following.
Otherwise it was relatively uneventful except for getting another year older and learning to fly.
***
It wasn't until the summer that I could finally relax. Coming home from class on the last day of the 1916-1917 school year at the University of Maryland I found a letter from Gigi waiting for me at the boarding house.
"Do you really know Gigi DuBois?" asked Philip, another boarder. Gigi was a full-blown star now.
"Of course she does," answered Julie, yet another boarder who lived across the hall from me, "she was in that picture with her…the one with the girl…she was…the other girl. You know!"
I smiled and shook my head and sifted through the rest of my mail.
"Oh my!" I said. Inside was the usual letter from Gigi, a train ticket, and cash. She wanted me to come visit her in California. She was never subtle about these things. "Crazy girl."
"Gee, she can really do that?" Julie said looking over my shoulder at the contents of the envelope.
"She always does." I shook my head.
Nothing was ever private in this particular boarding house. Everything time I opened my mail there was always somebody wanting to know what was going on. I didn't mind them so much even if they did get somewhat annoying from time to time. And because I had been in a movie I was a favorite among the resident busybodies.
***
"This is going to be the most fun ever!" Gigi ran up ahead of me, but not for long. I soon caught up to her.
I took a week off from the hospital and stayed with Gigi for two weeks. I spent most those two weeks bouncing around ritzy areas of Los Angeles and pestering her with all the medical jargon I'd learned. By the end of the second week she threatened to dump 400 cc's of gasoline on my head.
Gigi was not your typical tale of a girl from a humble beginning who made it big in Hollywood. She was a California native and her family had money.
While visiting her that summer we spent a weekend on her grandfather's estate. This particular day Mr. Pastor had agreed to teach us how to fly his airplane. Pastor was Gigi's real name. Gretchen Glen "Gigi" Pastor.
After an hour of poking around the plane and showing us how it worked and giving us instructions it was time to take her out for some fresh air.
First Grandpa Pastor flew with Gigi as his passenger, then with me. Then Gigi flew me around. As much fun as I was having I was getting impatient. I couldn't wait to fly myself. Finally my turn came.
Grandpa Pastor had flown many times before; he even built the plane himself. Gigi had flown a few times before during her other visits. As for myself, it was my first experience with airplanes in my life. Needless to say Mr. Pastor was a little timid about having a rookie fly his baby.
Once in the air I couldn't contain myself.
"Ha!"
"I see we put the child in the candy store!" Gigi shouted over the noise.
"This one of the most exhilarating things I've done in my life! I'm flying! I'm a pilot!"
"Yes you are, sweetie."
I must have given poor Mr. Pastor a heart attack. Needless to say I flew a little recklessly…and for a long time. I didn't take her down until we started to run out of fuel. At least I landed it without a hitch.
"Say 'I'm a pilot' again and I swear to God…" Gigi feigned an evil glare.
"My legs are shaking. This is wonderful!" I said with dizzy excitement.
"Alright girls. Let's save the moment." Laughed Mr. Pastor. He took out his camera. He took a few of Gigi and me, I took one of the two of them, and Gigi shot one of me posing victoriously next to the plane looking like a real pilot.
The next morning he let us take out his baby again before we left. I hogged the plane again not giving Gigi much of a chance. She didn't seem to mind so much. She found my enthusiasm wildly amusing. I liked her when she was around her family. Like on screen, her innocence and sweetness actually seemed honest for once.
***
By the spring of 1918 I received my nursing certificate and registered in the State of Maryland.
After war had been declared the Army called upon University Hospitals across America to form base hospitals. Within the University of Maryland hundreds of nurses applied and one hundred were selected for Base Hospital 42. I was among them.
On July 14, 1918, the nineteenth birthday of Emily Dawson-a birthday so narrowly missed by her cousin six years earlier, the nurses of Base Hospital 42 sailed from New York City aboard the White Star Liner Baltic.
What an oddly familiar setting. It was the second time I found myself on a boat since my Titanic ordeal. This time I was required to wear a lifebelt at all times due to the possibility of German sub attacks. I happily obliged.
Going into it, my thoughts were different on this war. The war in Mexico seemed trivial compared to this. Nothing is black and white, but there was a more righteous side in this war. Some wars need to be fought. There are worse things than war. Slavery is worse than war. Tyranny is worse than war. I had a skill that was needed where my country's, as well as other countries' soldiers fought and sacrificed themselves.
When the thought had finally hit me that I'd find myself on an ocean liner again I made my decision. I would go if I had to. True, there would always be a part of me that was scared, but that would have to be overcome. And if took sailing on every boat, leaving myself floating in the middle of every ocean, and taking ice cold baths everyday for the rest of my earthly life I'd do it. I would conquer this. I was stronger than it. There was a risk in walking out the door in the morning. I would not let myself be swayed into my shell because of a bad experience no matter how horrifying.
I did it with thought of my whole life in mind, but it was especially important at this moment in time. I didn't think it was going to be pretty, but I had no idea that what I'd see over the next four months would be even more horrifying than the Titanic. I was about to make myself witness to the largest, most terrifying war the modern world had known.